


Iron Wizard

by AmandaHuffleduck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU: Iron Chef, Alternate Reality, Crossover, M/M, Snupin Santa Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaHuffleduck/pseuds/AmandaHuffleduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snupin Santa 2006.</p><p>Electromoon requested:<br/>Prompt: <i>Fic (or art/comic) - Humour, Iron Chef-style AU (but still in British Wizarding World, not Muggle). Lupin challenger, Snape chef he chooses. Go wild with the weird/gross ingredients & Wizarding/British recipes. Lupin wins, Snape sore loser. Lupin catches up with Snape afterwards, to sooth his ego, Snape realises Lupin's true motive behind being challenger. Big plus if you can include clumsy, rushed pantry sex while both hide from Rita Skeeter.</i><br/><i>Things I'd like(not essential): Lucius or Obliviated!Lockhart in Chairman's role, Narcissa, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Draco or Trelawney on tasting panel, & Hagrid as one of the other chefs (who never gets chosen) or one of tasters.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Not sure I've followed the prompt _exactly_ , and I've taken small liberties with the show's format, but I hope this pleases!  
> For those not familiar with the _Iron Chef_ program, it's a Japanese cooking competition hosted by the always flamboyantly dressed Chairman Kaga. Each week a challenger chooses one of the show's 'Iron Chefs' to compete against. They're given a 'theme ingredient' to base their menus on, and an hour to complete the dishes, which are then tasted and judged. What makes it particularly funny, in my opinion, is that the commentators call the 'action' like sports-casters…

_Commentator 1: Good Evening, I'm Roger de Nickers-Ouef._

_Commentator 2: And I'm Jarvis Looseboot. Welcome to another episode of…_

_[music swells]_

**Iron Wizard!**

_Jarvis: Well, Roger, the tasters are in place, our master chefs are waiting for the challenger to appear –_

_Roger: And as always I'm agog to see what extravagance the Chairman will be wearing tonight!_

_[dramatic music]_

_Jarvis: Ah, speak of the devil –_

_Roger: [tittering] Not literally, of course, Jarvis!_

_Jarvis: More than our jobs are worth, Roger. Anyway, here comes Chairman Malfoy!_

_Roger: And doesn't he look a treat tonight?!_

_Jarvis: …_

_Roger: What? All that silver really sets off his eyes._

_Jarvis: Right, be that as it may, the Chairman is introducing tonight's challenger…_

 

"Tonight's challenger is a scholar with – as he says – a keen interest in traditional Wizarding cuisine. Welcome, Remus Lupin!"

Unfriendly grey eyes sparked above a wide and insincerely welcoming smile. Remus was an avid viewer of Iron Wizard and he knew better than to expect a handshake but even so Lucius Malfoy's formal half-bow was almost insultingly shallow. 

"Thank you, Chairman Malfoy." Remus' voice was mild but he didn't drop his gaze and his own bow mirrored within an inch the depth of his host's. "It's a pleasure to be here."  
"Quite." Malfoy drew himself up to his full, elegant height before throwing his arms wide – incidentally revealing the _gorgeously_ intricate embroidery on his sweeping, forest green sleeves. "And now it is time to choose which Master you will challenge to a contest of skills!"

Remus pivoted to face the show's resident culinary experts. 

Rubeus Hagrid, as massive and cheerful as always, waggled his sausage-like fingers and grinned; Imelda Minkbrush wrinkled her bulbous nose at him in a friendly fashion while Sentrum Nelson, true to his reputation, afforded him an aloof nod. Worthy adversaries they undoubtedly were but they weren't the reason Remus was here. 

"I choose…" With a sense of dramatic timing to rival Malfoy's, Lupin paused before naming the fourth and perhaps most forbidding of the Iron Wizard's crew. "I choose Severus Snape."

_Jarvis: And the challenger Remus Lupin has chosen Master Snape. A brave decision, Roger?_

_Roger: Hm, perhaps, Jarvis. Master Snape's skills are renowned while Mister Lupin is a complete unknown. He'll have his work cut out for him tonight. But once again the tasters have been spared the delights of Rubeus Hagrid's 'Dark Forest' cuisine._

_Jarvis: Oh yes, and don't they look relieved…_

 

Arms folded tightly across his chest, sneer firmly in place, Snape swept down to take his place at the workbench. He shot Remus an aloof glance as the challenger stepped up to his allocated bench.

"Mister Lupin, Master Snape, tonight's theme ingredient is that most traditional of British fare… _tripe_!"

Malfoy flourished his snake-headed cane and trays bearing slabs of quivering, off-white offal popped into existence on the work tops. Remus chuckled, looking genuinely amused while Snape's expression appeared to have set into one of irritation. 

Malfoy smirked aristocratically then whirled to face the challenger.

"So, Mister Lupin – you're up against the best in the country. Feeling… daunted?" 

Remus lifted his chin and there was a hint of something mischievous in his placid demeanour.

"I don't doubt I'll have to make a real effort. Master Snape is after all, a legendary master of tripe."

_Jarvis: Oh ho, Roger, if looks could kill Remus Lupin would be a very messy spot on the floor right now._

_Roger: Indeed, Jarvis, it'd require more than a few **Scourgifys** to sort that out! Correct me if I'm wrong, but is there some history between the Master and the challenger?_

_Jarvis: Apparently they went to school together but – details are sketchy – they 'didn't get on'._

_Roger: Hm, possibly a continuation of the inimical House rivalry at Hogwarts._

_Jarvis: How'd you work that out?_

_Roger: Master Snape is a notable Slytherin while Mister Lupin's noble brow and clear-eyed gaze plainly mark him as a Gryffindor._

_Jarvis: You're saying you can recognise a Gryffindor by their 'noble brow'?_

_Roger: The children of that gracious house are easily recognised –_

_Jarvis: By their 'noble brows'?_

_Roger: Correct._

_Jarvis: Wait. You're a Gryffindor._

_Roger: Ah, see! You instinctively recognised the quality –_

_Jarvis: No. You told me._

_Roger: Well, Hufflepuffs aren't noted for their perspicacity._

_Jarvis:… [sotto voce] Wanker._

_Roger: [oblivious] Yes, our contestants have begun to cook! They've both set their assistants to rendering the tripe while they prepare the rest of the ingredients._

_Jarvis: Let's hope the assistants don't cock it up because that stuff is vile if it's not prepared correctly._

_Roger: What's Mister Lupin doing there, Jarvis? Is that pastry he's mixing together with his very capable hands?_

_Jarvis: I think so, Roger. He's used flour, salt, a little water and some of the prepared suet. That's definitely pastry._

_Roger: Pie? Tart, perhaps?_

_Jarvis: We'll have our answer when we see what sort of dish, if any, he chooses. What's Master Snape up to? No pastry that I can see._

_Roger: No, no pastry but he's conjured an eel…! Eww, it's still alive!_

_Jarvis: … Not any more, it's not._

_Roger: You've got to admire his skill with a blade._

_Jarvis: He's skinning the eel, chopping it into small chunks._

_Roger: [laughing] And, oh dear, his assistant isn't moving quickly enough for him. I wouldn't want to have an eel's head chucked at me. Urgh, slimy…_

_Jarvis: Ah, a casserole dish. We can assume that Master Snape is preparing a casserole._

_Roger: And look, Mister Lupin's rolled out his pastry and is very carefully –_

_Jarvis: But very quickly, and without tearing the sheet. Impressive._

_Roger: - lining a tart dish. Now what's he doing? Ah, of course, the tart case has to be pre-cooked so it doesn't go soggy with the filling._

_Jarvis: The technical term, Roger, as you know is 'baking blind'. Meanwhile his assistant has thinly sliced an interesting assortment of vegetables. What's he got there: carrots, pumpkin, leeks…?_

_Roger: What are those red things?_

_Jarvis: Capsicum, I believe. And on the other side of the Stadium it appears that yes, Master Snape is indeed preparing a casserole. He's sautéed the eel chunks with garlic, and now he's slicing up some of the tripe and layering that with the eel, whole cabbage leaves and a good helping of fresh herbs. I think this could actually be a very tasty dish, Roger._

_Roger: Bat's Balls!_

_Jarvis: I beg your pardon?_

_Roger: Marinated Bats' Balls, Jarvis. Remus Lupin has opened a jar of Bats' Balls._

_Jarvis: That's terribly… Continental._

_Roger: Well, he has apparently just returned from several years in Eastern Europe. I know they've got some funny ideas of food over there, but honestly, I don't know how this'll go down with the  
British Wizarding public._

_Jarvis: It's either a very bold move, Roger, or very foolish. It could make or break his dish._

_Roger: Right, pastry case is out of the oven. He's letting that cool down a little while his assistant prepares a mix of fresh eggs lightly beaten with milk, and is that cream?_

_Jarvis: Yes, just a dollop. It'll give a lovely smooth richness to the sauce. Mister Lupin's testing the crust and yes, it's cool enough now. In go the vegetables… He's got an eye for presentation._

_Roger: Over goes the sauce. And some good old British cheddar. Grated. He's also slicing up some of the tripe and laying that in lattice strips over the top._

_Jarvis: And, oh, that's clever, he's putting a bat's ball in the spaces between the lattices. A little more cheese sprinkled over the top and it's into the oven. How's Master Snape doing?_

_Roger: His casserole's in the oven now as well. The sand's running out - will they have time to prepare another dish?_

_Jarvis: Looks like they're both going to give it a go. Working very quickly now…_

_Roger: Mister Lupin's literally throwing together that berry pie, using more suet pastry, but he's taking the time to carve little leaves and flowers from the leftover pastry._

_Jarvis: They'll be a charming touch to his dessert. Master Snape is making a steamed pudding by the look of it._

_Roger: Yes, lots of brandy-soaked dried fruit going in there with fresh apples and spices. All held together with suet and flour. Mmm… my mouth's watering just looking at it, Jarvis. I wonder if we'll get a chance to try any of this?_

_Jarvis: There's never much left over once the tasters have had a go but I've been taking notes…_

_Roger: Good man!_

_Jarvis: Now, thanks to the magic of, well, magically accelerated stovetops and ovens all the dishes are just about ready to serve. Presentation, is of course, vital at this stage. The food can't just taste good, it's also got to look good on the plate._

_Roger: They'll have to work fast though, it looks like the Chairman is getting ready to ring the bell…_

 

Lupin wiped his sleeve across his brow - having to work that quickly, and that precisely, had been more tiring than he would've credited. He glanced over at his competitor; Snape looked as cool and aloof as always… except for a tell-tale sheen to his sallow cheeks. Yes, he'd been exerting himself as well. 

Remus' assistant offered him a glass of cool water which he accepted with a grateful smile.

"Well done, sir," the boy murmured shyly.  
"I couldn't have done it without you, Harry."  
Green eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth.  
"Did you see Malfoy get hit in the back of the head with the eel? It was brilliant!"  
"I didn't, no. Oh dear, poor Draco." Remus tried to look sympathetic. "It must be very trying assisting a perfectionist like Master Snape." He tensed as his dishes were presented to the tasters. "I'm thinking those Bats' Ball might have been a mistake."  
Harry shrugged philosophically.  
"You have to take chances sometimes, sir."  
Remus nodded, his gaze lingering on Snape's face.  
"Yes, you do…"

The _Iron Wizard's_ tasters this week were all women; Minerva McGonagall, Sybill Trelawney and Narcissa Malfoy. Remus was confident that Minerva would be scrupulously honest in her opinions but the other two… Madame Malfoy could be counted on to find fault with a challenger's meal, especially if they were challenging Snape. It was no secret she was far from impartial, favouring the dour man's culinary creations above all others. As for Trelawney - Lupin managed to muffle his snort by pretending to cough – it all depended on how the stars were aligned, or what cryptic crossword the bloody tea leaves had spelled out that morning… 

McGonagall spoke first.

"Master Snape, your eel and tripe casserole is very good." She didn't look pleased to be saying it, however. "The delicacy of the eel is supported and enhanced by the tripe. Neither are overwhelmed by the herbs or cabbage. Perhaps just a touch more pepper?"  
Snape stiffened.  
"No more pepper is needed."  
"I agree, Master Snape." Narcissa Malfoy spoke up. "This is a perfect combination. The herbs marry beautifully the more earthy tastes of the eel and tripe."

Snape inclined his head and almost smiled at the gushing praise.

Sybill Trelawney was chewing thoughtfully. She looked abstracted, an impression that was heightened when she jumped, realising that everyone was waiting for her.

"Eel, as we all know, is a food more often associated with Pisces. As Leo is in ascendancy at the moment it may not have been a propitious choice but the dish is quite tasty anyway. Very warming. Your pudding, however," she peered at him through the thick lenses of her glasses, "is delightful. Thick and sweet, evoking the joys of simple country fare. The custard's a little runny though…"

Master Snape rolled his eyes but refrained from comment. Minerva spoke again with grudging respect. 

"Yes, this is easily the best pudding you've ever made, Master Snape, runny custard or no." She directed a disdainful sniff at Trelawney.  
"And I have nothing to add, Master Snape," Narcissa favoured him with an aristocratic smile. "Again you have produced a perfect meal. My congratulations."

Snape accepted the comments with surprising grace before turning to sneer triumphantly at Lupin.

"And what of Mister Lupin's dishes?" Chairman Malfoy prompted.  
"The tart is too salty and the berry pie is, frankly, ordinary." Narcissa was dismissive. "I'd expect at least a little effort from someone presuming to challenge one of Britain's best chefs."  
Minerva McGonagall visibly bristled.  
"See here, Madame Malfoy – "  
"Ladies, please…" the Chairman broke in smoothly. "Let's keep it civil."

The two women glared at each other for a moment before Minerva shook herself - delicately, like a cat having stepped in something distasteful – and turned to smile at Remus.

"Mister Lupin, the addition of marinated Bat's Balls was inspired. They gave your tart a delightful piquancy while imbuing it with a wholly exotic flavour. And your _delicious_ berry pie," she shot Madame Malfoy a pointed glance, "Was simply that – delicious. The combination of sharp and sweet fruit, coupled with the surprisingly light suet pastry was a joy to eat. And a feast for the eyes! The sculpted leaves and flowers garnish lifted your whole creation into the realm of _haute cuisine_. Very well done, Mister Lupin, very well done indeed."

Remus' smile was wide and pleased. Even if he didn't win he'd made a good showing at least.

"And I must echo Minerva's sentiments, Mister Lupin," Trelawney fluted, "Though I must caution you that the, er, _regenerative_ organs of a bat would not be appreciated by everyone. I'm sure you could do just as well with more… mundane ingredients…"

_Jarvis: High praise indeed for the challenger from Minerva McGonagall. Will it be enough to tip the scales in his favour?_

_Roger: We're about to find out, Jarvis…_

 

Chairman Malfoy strode to the centre of the 'stadium'. He paused – dramatically, of course – his silver-topped cane held before him like a staff of office.

"The points have been tabulated and I have great pleasure – " his mouth twisted slightly on the word, " – in declaring Remus Lupin today's winner."

_Jarvis: Amazing, Roger, just amazing! This is the first time in the history of **Iron Wizard** that Master Snape has been beaten!_

_Roger: And, oooh, he's not happy, Jarvis. If his scowl gets any deeper his face is in danger of folding in on itself! Not gracious in defeat at all. I win the bet! Ten galleons, please!_

_Jarvis: Well, call me unrealistic but I'd have hoped Master Snape could be philosophical about losing. Remus Lupin, on the other hand, looks like all his birthdays have come at once. He's a very happy man, accepting the praise and congratulations of his assistant and the tasters._

_Roger: Two of them at any rate._

 

"My Inner Eye informed me in a dream last night that you were going to win, Mister Lupin."  
"Oh. Right, um…"  
Minerva tsked impatiently.  
"Your 'Inner Eye' had nothing to do with it, Sybill, it was purely Mister Lupin's skill and imagination!" She looked immeasurably – and rather vindictively - pleased. "I have to admit, Remus, I would've been tempted to mark your creations highly even if they _hadn't_ been better than Snape's. The look on his face, and Malfoy's, warmed my heart. It will do Severus good to have someone trounce him for a change!"  
"It was brilliant!" Harry enthused. "You're a great chef, sir, if ever you're interested in taking an apprentice I'd be thrilled to be considered!"  
"Why, thank you, Harry, but I – "  
"After show drinks, as always, will be served in the Puce Room." Chairman Malfoy's cold voice cut across the cheerful company.  
"Thank you, Chairman." Minerva responded with dignity.  
"Allow me to show you the way, Mister Lupin." Sybill slipped her arm through Remus', effectively locking him to her side. He smiled pleasantly and allowed himself to be led out of the Stadium.

The Puce Room was quite large but even so it was overflowing with people. Lupin had no idea that this many witches and wizards were involved in the show's production. Or perhaps not all of them were directly involved after all; there seemed to be a definite element of 'outsiders' mingling with the program staff. Tittering, gawping fans, sponsors… reporters.

"Would you excuse me for a moment, Sybill?"

Lupin smiled gently down at the woman while prising her fingers away from his arm.

"I'll be right here!" 

She fluttered her eyelashes at him; a coquettish action that lost most of its charm behind the thick lenses of her glasses. Remus edged away, continuing to smile - while being careful not to make eye contact – and making a mental note to avoid this section of the room in the immediate future.

He pushed his way through the crowd to where he'd spotted Rita Skeeter pinning her quarry up against a wall. Acid-green pen poised the Prophet's reporter looked like nothing less than a vulture waiting to tear strips from its still-living meal.

"Oh come now, Master Snape, you must have _something_ to say about being defeated for the first time in your _Iron Wizard_ career?"  
" _Nothing. To. Say._ Go away, you despicable woman."  
"It must be _such_ a blow to your pride." Skeeter cooed, oozing a sickeningly sweet and, obviously false, sympathy. 

Remus took in Snape's increasingly dark expression and made his decision. 

"Miss Skeeter! I _must_ congratulate you on your exposé about corruption in the Anourous Skinks import industry. Who'd have thought the rot went so deep? Fascinating, simply fascinating."  
"Yes, yes, thank you," she glanced over her shoulder, looking annoyed at the interruption, until she realised precisely who it was addressing her. "Mister Lupin!" she spun around, giving him such a pointy smile it made Remus' hackles rise. "Congratulations on your win. Tell me, how did it feel _thrashing_ Britain's best, most notorious chef?" She threw an arch look back at Snape – who wasn't there anymore.  
"… Where's he gone?" She snapped, turning back to Remus - only to find her secondary quarry had also made good his escape. 

Ducking down to lessen the chances of being spotted, Remus sidled through the crowd, grinning wildly. He hadn't had this sort of fun since dodging Filch at school! Unlike then, however, he had no idea of this building's layout - but he was following someone who did. 

Lupin had noted the direction in which Snape had scarpered, and while he'd lost sight of him in the meantime he guessed that uppermost in the unsociable wizard's mind was the desire to leave the room. He risked straightening up for a second, just in time to catch sight of the Puce Room's door closing. _Ahah!_

" _Mister Lupin_!" Skeeter could certainly pitch her voice to carry over a crowd. Throwing prudence to the wind, Remus plunged towards the door, offering random apologies as he inadvertently shoved people aside in his haste to get away.

Once in the corridor he glimpsed the flutter of black robes disappearing around a corner. Remus tore off in pursuit, almost skidding around the same corner. His target wasn't far ahead now.

"Snape, wait!" 

The Master chef hunched his shoulders and continued stalking at speed.

"Snape! Skeeter's after you – us!" 

"I don't need your help, Lupin!"  
"Well, I need yours!" Remus had finally caught up. "Be fair. I distracted her so you could escape."  
"Is that what you were doing?" Snape sneered. "I thought you were simply fawning."  
Remus snorted.  
"Hardly. I was rescuing you."

Snape opened his mouth, no doubt to pour scorn on the idea, when behind them they heard a triumphant cry.

"Mister Lupin! _And_ Master Snape!"

The baying of hounds couldn't have prompted a fox to react more quickly than Snape did now. Gritting his teeth around an oath, the lanky man shot off down the corridor. A split-second later Remus hared after him. 

Around another corner they ran, and another, the ' _tacktacktack_ ' of the reporter's heels never seeming to fall back. How she could keep her balance in those things – let alone keep up - Remus would never understand… 

Lupin was suddenly bundled sideways through a doorway. Snape hissed at him to be quiet as he moved his wand in a curt, complicated pattern over the closed door. Moments later Remus heard Rita Skeeter clattered past. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

" _See-me-not_." Snape muttered, still listening for sounds of pursuit.

Remus nodded approval then straightened up and looked around; Snape had led them to the Kitchen Stadium. 

 

Only minimally lit at the moment the room was less imposing than he remembered. He wandered across to the challenger's bench, the scene of his triumph. 

"Pleased with yourself, Lupin?" Snape had stalked over and stood only a pace away, wrapped tightly in his inky robes. "Happy with my humiliation?"  
"Humiliation…? You're exaggerating – "  
"Don't presume to know what's in my mind!"  
"Don't presume to know my motivations!" 

They glowered at each other, then Remus sighed and deliberately dropped his gaze. He shoved his hand through prematurely greying hair.

"I'm not going to apologize for winning. And you're completely wrong if you think I did this only because I wanted to best you."  
Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
"Why should I not think that? Given you and your little friends' predilection for humiliating me at every opportunity."  
Remus ground his teeth together.  
"That was at _school_. We're grown-ups now."  
"I can't see the passing of the years making any difference to your attitude -"  
"I challenged you, not because I wanted to beat you at something but because I wanted your attention!" Lupin growled.  
"What?" Snape looked confused.  
"I wanted your attention. I wanted to be good enough at something that you'd notice me."  
"We're still speaking of juvenile behaviour, then!" Snape scoffed, but his eyes widened in alarm as Remus moved suddenly to corner him against the bench. "Get away from me, Lupin."  
Remus' grin was alarmingly feral.  
"No. Not until I'm sure you understand my motivations have nothing to do with childish impulses." 

He leant in close, angling his head so he could sniff the bare inch of sallow skin showing at the neck of the man's robes. He felt the sudden tension in the body in front of him, heard Snape's breath catch in his throat. Lupin pressed forward, bracing himself with an arm either side of lean hips. Snape was trapped against the polished marble work surface. 

" _Lupin_ …" it was a shaky but definite warning.  
"I've travelled all over Europe," Remus ghosted his lips over the angle between jaw and neck. "Studying, discovering, experimenting. Working on my cooking skills so I would be worthy to challenge you."  
"Why?" Snape rasped. He was trying to minimise contact by leaning back as far away as possible. All that did, though, was expose more of his throat to Lupin's appreciative nuzzling.  
"Because you're the best." Lupin's tongue flickered out, tasting skin that was salty with apprehension. "And I want you."  
"Preposterous. I certainly don't want you."  
Remus pushed forwards with his hips, lifting his head and smiling into furious black eyes when his erection made contact with Snape's.  
"Really?"  
" _Lupin_ …" Not a warning this time, not quite.  
"Do you want me to stop, Severus?" Remus had lowered his head again to gently suckle a long neck. "Just say the word."  
"Don't… stop."  
Lupin chuckled.  
"Was that a ' _stop_ ', or a ' _keep going_ '?"  
" _Bastard_."  
"The latter, then." Remus was fairly confident of his interpretation as by this time Snape had one hand tangled in his hair and the other gripping his arse, pulling him closer.  
"I want you." He murmured against his companion's hollow cheek. He felt rather than saw Snape nod and then the man was turning in his arms.  
"No." Lupin commanded. "I want to see your face."  
Snape stilled, but his breathing accelerated.  
"Lift your robes." There was a moment's hesitation before the Master chef acquiesced. Remus was practically purring as long, skinny legs were revealed, topped by a large and obviously eager cock. No undergarments, he was pleased to see; Snape was a man after his own heart.  
"Impressive." Lupin stroked his palm up the silky length, smoothing his thumb over the damp head. Snape's thighs quivered as he sucked back a moan.  
Remus smirked.  
"Up."

Snape – with Lupin's help – hoisted himself to sit on the bench, his thighs splayed wide while that glorious protrusion bobbed in his lap. It was too inviting to resist so naturally Remus didn't try. He hummed happily as his lips sank down over Snape's length: how often had he fantasised about this? 

Remus was just beginning to enjoy himself – so was Snape if the strangled curses and moans were any indication – and so he was caught between annoyed and perplexed when long fingers twisted in his hair and he was forced back.

"Wha – _ow_!" 

A small bottle smacked into his nose. Lupin squinted at the label and immediately brightened, grasping at once Snape's subtle hint. He flicked open the stopper and after a moments hesitation poured a generous amount into his hand. Truffle-infused oil was stupidly expensive - just this little jar was _galleons_ worth – but the earthy aroma was wonderfully sensual. Remus grinned mischievously: it would compliment _this_ dish perfectly.

"What are you waiting for?" 

Snape's growl dropped off into a lush groan of anticipation as Remus shoved his own robes aside and hastily smoothed the handful of oil over his rigid penis. The chef swore again, feelingly, when shortly afterwards slick fingers eased their way into his arse. 

Lupin dragged him bodily forward until he was perched at the very edge of the bench.

"Ready?" The werewolf's eyes very bright in his flushed face.  
"Hurry up!" Snape grated but then Lupin was pushing home and he had no breath left to speak.  
"Oh, oh gods," Remus' head had dropped forward onto Snape's bony shoulder. "'s perfect…" 

He moved, thrusting gently and easily, turning his head so he could kiss Snape's neck. The chef's hands were over his shoulders and he could just feel booted heels pressing into his buttocks, urging him on. He grinned and complied, picking up the pace, losing himself in the primal thrill of excellent sex with an equally enthusiastic partner. _Perfectperfectperfect_ …

And then he heard something, voices, out in the hallway. Remus froze.

"Did you lock the door?" he whispered, alarmed.  
"No." Snape blanched. "Just cast the _See-me-not_." He glared at Remus as though this were all his fault. "I didn't anticipate - "  
"Quick, lock it now." 

Somehow Snape had managed to keep his wand within reach, and somehow – despite the delectable distraction of Lupin balls deep in his body - he managed to summon the concentration to cast.

"That's not going to keep them out for long." he warned, and Remus smirked.  
"We'd better not hang about then."

So they didn't, concluding their coupling with a frenzy of urgent, nearly violent thrusts and strokes, muffling their voices in each other's clothing. 

Remus came first, gasping into Snape's throat, his knees threatening to buckle as sparks went off in his peripheral vision. 

" _Lupin_ …" 

He rallied himself. Snape was close but needed just that little bit extra to help him over the line. Remus wrapped his hand around the man's straining penis and stroked firmly, twice. That was all it took, and forewarned, he'd cupped his hand around Snape's skull and brought their mouths together just in time, swallowing his partner's yell as he climaxed… 

They propped against each other, chests heaving.

"We can't stay." Snape gasped.

Lupin nuzzled his cheek. 

"My place? I made a _Sachertorte_ earlier."  
"Can you _Apparate_ us both? I don't think I have the energy and – " he scowled at the sound of increased activity beyond the door. "We have to move, now."

Lupin nodded, suppressing a groan as he slipped out of Snape's body. If he had any say in the matter he'd be back there before long, though they'd have to make do with ordinary lubrication as his budget didn't run to exotic things like truffle-oil. But then again… Feeling just a little bit naughty – but with a wicked twinkle in his eyes - Remus pocketed the remains of the expensive condiment. 

Snape slid off the bench, quickly pushing his robes back down while Lupin fumbled for and found his wand. Remus smiled and slid an arm around Snape's waist.

"Ready?"

There was a loud _pop_ , and then the studio was still once more…

… except for one quiet, shadowy corner. The commentators' viewing area… 

 

_Roger: [clears throat] Well…_

_Jarvis: Let's never speak of this again. Furthermore I suggest we never again stay back for a quiet cup of tea after the show._

_Roger: Oh, I don't know, Jarvis. It could be a real ratings boost if these sorts of **liaisons** were encouraged, and recorded._

_Jarvis: … What?_

_Roger: [glowing] Just think of it! **Iron Wizard – uncut**! That'd certainly get the punters in, eh? Eh?_

_Jarvis: Roger, you twat, just shut up…_

FIN.


End file.
